


Schoolgirl

by arrogantCalligraphist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossdressing, Frottage, I beg you, I think that's all there is, I wrote this so long ago..., Just humor me, M/M, Probably ooc, Sucky-ass plot, slight dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:45:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arrogantCalligraphist/pseuds/arrogantCalligraphist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave and John decide to raid the drama department's costume room and take home some interesting outfits. </p>
<p>Yep.<br/>I'm the best at summaries.<br/>It is me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schoolgirl

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the first fanfics I ever wrote. Gods, don't judge me ;n;
> 
> Oh, and this was inspired by a picture that I can't find the direct link to anymore. But it still shows up here:   
> http://drabbles-r-us.tumblr.com/post/21098934393/hmm-i-should-probably-title-these-huh

“Dave.” His voice sends shivers down your spine, especially at this proximity. 

“Yes, John?” you answer emotionlessly, still rifling through the assortment of fabrics in front of you. 

“Aren’t you—” a sudden noise interrupts his question and he turns around frantically. 

“Afraid of getting caught?” you finish for him. “Nah, we’re cool. The theater department doesn’t need all these outfits.”

“I guess not…” comes his hesitant response. There is a short silence before he opens his mouth to speak again, but he doesn’t get out a complete sentence before your lips part into a devilish grin and you let out a truncated laugh. 

“Oh-ho, man. This is perfect. This is great,” you chuckle, pulling out two hangers. John’s eyes widen and his mouth gapes. Before you can worry about his reaction, he smiles broadly and starts laughing. 

“Get them! Ahaha, Dave, get them! We need to, he-he, we need to try those on!” he manages to get out. When the laughter dies down, you hear a door open and shove the costumes into your open backpack, zipping it up quickly and shutting the closet door in the same motion. 

“Mr. Strider?” The teacher’s voice echoes through the semi-empty room and John flinches, whirling around. “What are you doing back here? And who’s this?” 

“Sorry, ma’am,” you answer smoothly, turning on the politeness and accidentally showing your drawl. “I’m just back here showing my buddy John the prop department. He’s thinking of joining the Drama Club.” 

The teacher raises an eyebrow and looks at John for confirmation. He nods his head vigorously and she smiles sweetly. “Well, that’s great. The more, the merrier!” she says, turning to leave. You motion to John to follow her out.

Once you leave the building, the two of you sprint away to your apartment, where you collapse laughing on your sofa, ignoring the protesting squeaks of the smuppets you landed on. 

“Ha, ha! Dave, you’re such a liar!” John accuses.

“Can’t help it, man. Would you rather I told her we were stealing some sexy schoolgirl uniforms?”

“He-he. I guess not.”

You sling your backpack off your shoulder and onto the coffee table with a satisfied smirk gracing your face. You pull out the aforementioned clothing, examining it closer in the well-lit room. You chuckle. Now that is ironic. 

“Blue still your favorite color?” you ask rhetorically, handing the cerulean fabric to John. You motion for your bathroom and he scampers over, giggling giddily. You slowly unball the other crimson-skirted costume and you have second thoughts. You look at the door, only slightly positive Bro won’t walk in at any moment. You’re not afraid of him judging you; you’re afraid of him flipping out his camcorder with that ninja-like speed of his and snapping a few shots for his later viewing pleasures. 

But you know what? Screw him. 

You close all the curtains and shades, even though you doubt anyone will be floating outside your window jerking it to you and your best friend crossdressing. However, you can never be too careful. 

You quickly strip down to your boxers and discard your clothes in a pile next to the couch. You slip on the white shirt of the ensemble and move to pick up the skirt when something catches your eye—another piece of white fabric. You reach for it hesitantly, briefly confused until it registers—holy shit, the costume comes with panties. You quickly throw them into the pile of your own clothes and slide the pleated skirt on over your boxers. You grab the matching scarf and tie it around your neck, smirking at how ridiculous you probably look. You turn and sit on the couch, pulling on knee-high socks. You catch your reflection in the TV and bite back the urge to blush in embarrassment. 

Luckily for you, the door to the bathroom opens and the sound of muffled footsteps slowly grows louder. You turn around to say something snarky, but your breath catches. Damn does Egbert work that outfit. His figure was just feminine enough for the shirt to lay the right way. He had a line of rose-pink blush spreading across his cheeks and gog-be-damned is you said you didn’t think it was fucking adorable. 

Instead of speaking and risking a falter in your poker face, you decide to purse your lips and give off a loud wolf whistle that makes John’s face redden even deeper. You sprawl against the back of the couch, not caring about the indecency of it considering your skirt, and motion for him to sit next to you. Just as he’s about to sit his premium rump down on the plush seat, though, you stop him. 

“Wait,” you tell him, looking at the door cautiously. Then you see a light blinking above the TV and remember that Bro has webcams everywhere in the apartment. You curse your own stupidity and tear out the device, praying it didn’t save the stream to your brother’s computer. “Let’s go to my room.”

John nods mutely, obviously a little confused as to why you crushed a seemingly-harmless room accessory. You get up and dash to your room, fairly certain that you were moving too fast for any camera to catch. John, on the other hand, walks at a pace only slightly more rushed than usual. He still looks confused, but now he seems uncomfortable, too. He sits on your bed and asks, “Umm…Dave. What do we do now?”

You eat him up with your eyes, glad you have dark shades to block John from seeing your wandering eyes as you check him out. He fidgets nervously with the skirt, trying to find a comfortable and ‘lady-like’ way of sitting. Honestly, you’re also wondering what happens next. You hadn’t really thought this far; you’d just put these on as a joke. But now…as your gaze wanders around the room, you see a few disc cases that aren’t concealed as well as you thought they’d be. Suddenly, you have a great idea. 

“Dave?” John asks. You turn to him and realize you’re grinning. Upon seeing him, however, your smirk falters. He’s a boy. You’re a boy. Not only that, but he’s your best friend. You shouldn’t even think about doing something like that to him. With him. 

“Just thinking, bro,” you assure him. 

“Oh.” A pregnant silence. “What were you thinking?”

After a far-too-brief internal battle, you decide to go with it. “Something along the lines of ‘hey, let’s act out my favorite hentai for shits ‘n’ giggles.’” You prepare to see disgust on John’s face, but he smiles instead. 

“Sure, bro!” he exclaims excitedly, quickly calming down and giving you his best apathetic expression.

You again fight the flush on your cheeks as you move closer to him, wondering exactly how to start this. You hear the rustle of your skirt as you sit on the bed and crawl towards John on your knees. You’re so close to him now. You can feel your heart beating faster. You sit up and lean in to kiss John when you see him frowning. You stop dead and pretend you don’t feel your heart sink. Instead you raise your eyebrow, silently questioning his hesitation. 

“But…umm…” he’s stammering so badly and it’s so cute and you just want to mold your mouth to his and swallow all that concern and doubt and make him so blissed he doesn’t even remember that any other feelings exist. “B-by the way…uh…what’s a hentai?”

You stare at him incredulously. He can’t be that innocent. He cannot be that innocent. Maybe he just doesn’t know that’s what it’s called. Maybe he’s into regular porn. Maybe he’s pranking you. But there is no way he is that pure. 

After opening and closing your mouth several times, trying to think of the most non-creepy way to describe it, you decide on a much simpler approach. “Oh, let me just show you.” You can hardly believe you actually said that to John. Before you can convince yourself not to, you lean in to your best friend and cup his face with your left hand so he can’t flinch away as you press your lips to his. You start slowly for him, savoring the flavor of his lips against yours. You press against him and feel his heat radiate through your body. You glide your free hand over his arms, surprised by how pleasantly soft his skin is. 

John’s hands are on your chest, pushing you away. You let him move you and his reaction is so worth it. He’s blushing furiously and saying, “Dave! Dave, you just…Dave you k-kissed me!”

“You asked what hentai was, bro. I’m showing you, like I promised,” you answer, shrugging. He stutters and can’t seem to find a plausible response in his flustered state. You notice at this point that his hands are still on your chest and he hasn’t tried to move out from under you (you’re straddling him as best you can in a skirt). A grin graces your face as you shut him up with another kiss, his incomplete words floating away. 

His hands clench and he gets two fistfuls of your shirt. By instinct, the hand that had been stroking his arm goes up his shirt, but then you remember that he’s not really a girl, although dressed like one. With no bra to unhook, your hand glides along his warm back. You pull him closer as you bring his lower lip into your mouth and suck on it gently. The moan he gives off is so primal, so needy, so sexy. It’s getting more difficult to ignore the throbbing between your legs, though the full skirt hides the fact that you’re half-hard. 

You trace his lips with your tongue, prodding at them experimentally. He lets you in more eagerly than you were expecting and a fresh wave of lust rolls through you, causing you to kiss him deeply, your tongue dancing with his between your mouths, and bring one of your hands to grope at his ass. With another moan, John’s hips buck forward and he grinds up against you. You growl hungrily when you feel his arousal against yours. 

Against your instincts—your want, your needs—you pull away to breathe. A thin line of spittle connects your lips to his and you want to desperately to mash your mouths onto his and devour him. You’re both panting so heavily and you can’t tear your eyes off his heaving chest, his flushed lips and cheeks, or those blue, blue eyes, pupils blown with desire, that you’re absolutely drowning in. 

What’s happening to you now is a dream come true. You can’t count how many times you’ve fantasized about this—about him. You don’t even remember when it happened, when the busty babes in your daydreams became this buck-toothed geek. The dresses are new, though. 

“Dave,” he whimpers, and he sounds so achingly innocent that you almost pin him to the bed. “I…” he pauses to moan as you continue to fondle his soft rump. “I think I, mnnnn, I think I like this hentai thing.” 

You nod, only half-listening as you glide your hand down his skirt. Your fingers brush against the hot skin of his leg and you work your hand slowly up his thigh to—wait, is he not wearing any underwear? You thought you’d have come into contact with his boxers by this point. Your hesitation is almost non-existent. You hike the pleated fabric up and grab onto him again. Wait. Wait. Just…wait. Woah, woah, woah. What?  
Your fingertips slide over smooth silk and you move to the edge of the article, tracing the shape of it over John’s hips. Now it’s your turn to flush as it dons on you holy shit, he put on the god-damned panties. That sends you over the edge of your self control. There is far too much space between the two of you. 

This time he meets you halfway, lips already parted expectantly. You shove the blue skirt to his knees and palm his growing erection through the clingy fabric. He makes a mewling sound and his hips thrust forward involuntarily. You take the opportunity, as his mouth opens wider, to slide your tongue past his lips. You shove the muscle into his throat and he swallows around it. Hell, that felt nice. Imagine if that had been your cock instead of your tongue. And imagine you do. The heat in your crotch is almost unbearable. 

You moan his name and he shudders against you, desperately fumbling for friction. You’re both achingly hard by this point and you decide to ditch the whole skirt thing altogether, shoving it off your hips and crawling out of it, laying over top of John. He decides to do something similar, pushing you down and kicking off the blue pleats as he hovers over you. The sudden dominance the usually-timid boy was showing made you shudder with pleasure. 

He presses his hips onto yours and tears at the fabric over your chest, an indication that the shirt needs to go, too. You happily comply, throwing it away in some corner of your room. John, after struggling some with his shirt, brings his mouth down to your neck, sloppily kissing, sucking, and biting at it. It takes a little while, but he eventually gets the hang of it and starts drawing out submissive moans from you. 

You attempt to remove your boxers and John’s—ahem—underwear, but he grabs you by your wrists and pins your arms above your head. You let out an embarrassing whimper of approval at his assertion and keep them there when he lets go, bringing his hands to your hips and clearing away the remaining layers of clothing separating the two of you from absolute ecstasy. 

As soon as his dick brushes against yours, skin to skin, he pauses and inhales sharply. He draws back his head and looks at you, confusion clear in his eyes. “Dave,” he whispers and you shrink away at the underlying apologetic tone. “Dave, we shouldn’t be doing this.” 

He starts to pull away from you and you call out a desperate “No!” He stops again and looks at you again, almost pleading for you to give him a reason to continue. So you give him one. You bring your arms back to your sides and slowly take off your protective shades. John’s seen you without your glasses before, but never in such an intimate situation. You stare right into his eyes and tell him, “I want you John. I want you so bad. And…” you avert your eyes for this part. “I love you. You’ve been my best fucking friend for so long. You can tolerate me more than anyone else, even though you’re a total dick sometimes. And I love you, despite all your faults and idi—no, because of all your faults and idiotic tendencies.”   
John stares at you, and you decide to add for good measure, “And, holy fuck, we’re already this far gone, why can’t we finish and then have the emotional pep talk?” 

At that, John smiles and nods, climbing back on top of you, grinding experimentally against you. You hiss and grit your teeth, reaching between you wrap your slender fingers around his and your dicks. You pump and twist your wrist, the angle a little more awkward than when you’re alone to your thoughts and the Internet. In spite of this, you both manage to reach your climaxes quite quickly. 

John collapses on top of you and you kiss him chastely, wrapping your arms around his bare torso. The issues of cleaning up and talking about emotions and what to do with the costumes can all wait because right now, the only thing that matters is the boy in your arms, the one you love, have loved for a while now, and will continue loving until the end of time.

**Author's Note:**

> ironic foreshadow or lame ending to a fanfic? your choice!
> 
> /shoots self


End file.
